The Wielder: Sworn Vengeance (The Wielder Series)

by Gosnell, David

  With that he stakes claim to the large chair in between the two large sofas - head of the table, of course. Everyone else takes a seat, except me. I am a bundle of nerves, not so much for facing Maldgorath again, but for screwing it up. What if we misstep and he gets away? What if he bugs out before we even set eyes on him?

  “You alright Arthur?” asks Karen.

  I nod a yes. And all of sudden I feel all eyes on me – not my intention. “Listen, we all know this is a do or pay the price kind of moment. Z’s been holding back information – this whole skylight thing. Our attack strategy is changing, and I haven’t had a chance to wrap my head around it, so yea, I’m a little bugged. Unless I’m mistaken nobody else here has family that he’s going to come back against.”

  I eat those words real quick. Both Christophe and Greg correct me on the error of my point of view. I think it was also the first time either of them considered that there could be repercussions for failure.

  “I see your concern Arthur, I share it now – my family has already come under fire once,” is Christophe concedes looking at Znuul and Karen.

  Greg’s agreement was much less elegant than Christophe’s, “Screw me....”

  Pacing around, I try to gain my thoughts towards something productive, rather than “why would you hold that information back, Mr. Znuul?”

  Instead Znuul addresses it headlong. “I am sorry for not sharing information that can be commonly gleaned through an Internet search. It is important for me, to understand the depth of thought of my allies – or lack thereof.” Znuul looks around the room. “You are all my juniors here, unless it happens that any of you are epochs old in this earthen time.”

  “Screw your attitude” hisses Greg. I’m thinking kind of the same way.

  “Nobody here was thinking completely and in all dimensions,” says Znuul calmly in that deep voice of his. “Don’t disrespect me because I have the age, discipline and experience to do so when you did not. Yes, I did not share that obvious public information, because it is obvious. You should be embarrassed with yourselves, not angry at me. You had the opportunity to discover. You failed.”

  Silence follows. Broken by Karen’s scary-calm voice.

  “You fail. You fail as a team member. We are not beholden to you. We, for that matter do not need you. We will accomplish what we set out to do. I realize you’re supposed to be some big to-do in the Dzemond scheme of things. And yes, maybe we should have figured out that there are skylights too, but we trust that as a team we are on the same page. And you, Ahtsag do not appear to be. Good for you, that you figured that out. Shame on you, for not sharing it.”

  More silence follows that poke in Znuul’s eye.

  “Fine,” says Znuul. “I’m a horse’s-ass and you all are overlooking the obvious. But we are STILL in this together. I get it. I suck at being a human being. Luckily for me, I am not one. So, Karen… Arthur…” he looks to both of us with the faintest of smiles. “Lead on, I will follow your direction to the letter and without question.”

  Karen looks at me and I at her.

  “No more bullshit,” I say looking Znuul in the eyes then turning to Karen. “Are we a team, or what? If so, it’s not about who’s leading, but meeting our goal – together. So, if anyone here has something to share to help get this job done, speak up. And yea that means you too mister I was Satan’s general and am older than dirt.”

  Quiet ensues. Everyone one is looking at everyone.

  “So spit it out ya winged hellspawn,” shouts Pffiferil, standing in his chair. “Ye gots ideas of whats ta do. Quit yer bein’ either sulkin or embarrassed or whatever. Spill it. If ye gots thoughts we needs to be hearin’ em.”

  Znuul regards Pffiferil with a furrowed brow and then turns to me. And then to everyone in the room.

  “The flask,” Znuul says.

  “It not be the time for liquid courage” snaps back Pffif.

  Everyone is slack-jawed at that comment.

  “Right,” Znuul moves up from his seat to lean in towards everyone “Very little difference other than myself, Sheyliene and Silithes entering through the skylights. The driving thought being to take the dragon down as quickly as possible and lock Maldgorath in place. The less chance for him to escape or react puts matters in our favor. That and the roof entry adds a dramatic and indefensible element of surprise. Surprise is our friend. Suddenness is our friend. We don’t want him to have an opportunity to think.”

  Everyone takes that in. No one says anything.

  Until Pffif spouts up. “Well, that weren’t really worth the drama, was it? Makes sense to me.” His eyes scan the group, meeting shrugs and nods. Pffif sits back down.

  “Surprise…” says Karen apparently mulling on that statement. “Okay, my turn for another wrinkle. Arthur…” she says looking at me. ‘Hear me out, before you react. If we use Arix’s communicator and you baiting him, it could be a very good distraction. It might also have him feeling that someone else is attacking him and he may get over confident. I vote we have Arthur set up the distraction with Arix.”

  “Sound strategy,” says Arix. I’m thinking he doesn’t wish to face Maldgorath. While I don’t blame him that opinion, I do beg to differ.

  “That’s fine, but I assume when the skylights crash I’m in with everyone else.”

  Karen takes a deep breath. “It would be best if you weren’t. If you can keep him in communication instead of reacting to our entry, we may get the few seconds we need to make sure that dragon doesn’t lift him away.”

  “UNACCEPTABLE” booms Znuul’s voice and everyone in the room but Karen jumps. His eyes turn to Karen’s. “Arthur and that Paladin’s sword are needed. Further, his vendetta is every bit as personal as ours. I cannot abide to have him on the sideline.” His very intense eyes turn to me. “Nor can he. We need his sword.”

  Damn straight. But still what’s most important is that Maldgorath dies. Period. If my distraction is what allows that to happen – goodie.

  “Listen,” says Karen to me. “All we need is to allow Greg to get him in sight – then it’s over. His head will fall and our work is done.”

  “You assume Greg will get his head” says Znuul. He turns to Greg with a smirk, “No offense my friend, but last time you and I met in the field of battle, I prevailed.”

  Greg actually nodded to that. “Barely and the rules of engagement were in your favor.”

  Znuul nods an acknowledgement. “You threw those rules out the window Mr. Improvisation.” That brings a smile from Z and not one of the fake ones. “Regardless, my point is that Maldgorath is much more magically adept than I and even more paranoid - if Greg’s attempt fails he will take countermeasures. Let us not put all the eggs in Gregg’s basket.”

  I am reeling from the fact that those two actually fought; most of the time they are like frick and frack – and then that Znuul prevailed. How, when, where? I look at Greg who just waves me off dismissively.

  “Big Z is right,” says Greg. “I’ll take the shot, for sure, but we have to plan for contingencies and layers. Z was able to defend against me… somewhat.” This time Greg’s smile shows through, there must be a great story there. “So safe to assume this asshole can too.”

  Znuul’s head rolls over towards Greg with a sly smile. “That kind of thinking might keep you alive.”

  Again, I’m thinking too much dang witty banter - so I inject myself. “Hey, back on track group. We need to discuss staging. We know the ground crew will set up to blow the wall at the left. Me and the winged crew will need to be somewhere and somewhere close. How about behind the building across the street? I want to be close. Close enough to get there easy when it starts to go down. I’ll keep him on the line as long as I can, but when he bails on me I’m going in.”

  No disagreements. Refocused, we discuss timing which we determine will be after nightfall. Tactically, we decide that the order of entry would be wall team first, skylights second and then me and Arix making a mad dash to the front door t
o join the fray.

  “That’s who, when and where,” says Znuul rather calmly “We need to discuss the what’s. That is, what everyone’s role is. As I see it we have two types of roles – specialized and general. The specialized roles are myself, Arthur, Greg, Christophe, and little Ms. Sheyliene. My role is merely to hold our prey in place and keep his attention from the rest of you, if I can kill him - bonus. Greg and Arthur are the slayers. Christophe is here to help keep everyone in the fight. Sheyliene has a most…”

  “Shey, you know your role,” I say interrupting for fear of her not wanting to take direction from Znuul. “Dragon duty – just like last time. You know how important this role is to our success, right? That dragon is his escape.”

  “I know,” she says with all seriousness. Her eyes turn to Znuul, “I’ll do my job.”

  Znuul nods back to her with a half smile, “Excellent.”

  After a small pause he readdresses the rest of the group. “Everyone else is on crowd control. Maldgorath summons at will. That warehouse can become real crowded, real quick with really nasty characters. It is critical, that all of you work together to knock them down as soon as they spawn. Don’t worry about me, don’t worry about Maldgorath. We have to keep those numbers in check, or we will fall like Rome.”

  Nods follow from around the room.

  “Okay everyone,” Karen says standing. “Weaponize and let’s be ready to move out at dusk.”

  Chapter 86

  The weaponry Znuul had ordered for us included body armor, ammo clips, ammo belts and a host of 9mm silenced pistols with special ordinance designed to pierce demon hide. The clips are oversized and hold 36 rounds. With so many ammo clips, I get the message: no time for reloading tonight – slap and shoot.

  I make a mental note to remind my group that lots of big clips with lots of ammo does not mean we need to be wasteful with our shots. My thoughts are waylaid by a sound of disgust. I look down to see Pffiferil with a gun in one hand and clip in the other.

  “The snakes bitten clip isa bout as big as my leg – ana I canna get me finger around the damn trigger with one hand,” Pffif says looking at me with disgust. “Ana that body armor mays as well be a tent.”

  He does have a point. I shrug at him. “If it doesn’t work don’t use it. You have anything in the thief bag?”

  That comment gets a wiggle of the eyebrows from the little guy. “Double Barrel Betty be in there!”

  He runs off for his bag. Double Barrel Betty is a modified 28 gauge shotgun of Pffif’s own tinkered design. He’s even gone as far as to hand load his own shells for, as he puts it, “optimum owie.” Even though it’s basically a sawed off shotgun, it still looks pretty much to size in his hands. And it does pack a wallop at close range.

  I go back to my room and gear up. Then I take to my knees and close my eyes. Clearing my mind I reach out in prayer.

  “Dorothy. Hey. I’m getting ready to go after him. Please don’t let my current company keep you from being with me. If we fail, I want to know that you’re right there with me. I want you to be the first I see should I pass on. I miss you so much. Please be close. I’m not asking for help. I just… miss you.”

  Tears fall from my eyes, despite my best efforts to quell them.

  “Sorry about that. Tell Jerry and Marge I miss them too. Tell them that bastard thing is going to pay. Please be with me. Ask the Lord for his strength and presence in our work. I love you. Amen.”

  I take a deep breath and start as I feel a light hand on my shoulder. Quickly, I turn in anticipation, but no one is there. “Thank you,” I say aloud. I stand and collect myself a moment and smile. It had to be Dorothy... had to be.

  A knock on the door breaks my reverie. I open the door to find Sil there, fully clad in body armor, two shoulder holsters and two holsters on her legs. It’s time for the “take me now before we rush into death,” routine.

  We regard each other silently for a moment. Her face is all business, maybe even a little intimidating. She breaks the silence.

  “You need to pray. We need Dorothy with us.”

  Well I did not expect that request. I nod back to her, “Just got through.”

  “Good,” she says inspecting me. Her cold façade scrunches a little. “You’ve been crying. Channel that into something more productive like anger. This is our shot. We all need to be on point.” Then she just walks away, presumably back to the living room.

  The new Sil, I remind myself. The temptress is gone. A stone cold killer has taken her place.

  Good.

  I collect myself and run a washcloth across my face. I head back down and am apparently last to the living room. Pffif is proudly showing off Double Barrel Betty to Znuul and Karen who both seem amused at his pride of craftsmanship.

  I look at my watch – quarter until six. “By the time we make it through traffic, it’ll be about dusk. No sense waiting around.”

  “Somebody’s anxious,” Karen quips.

  “Somebody’s ready,” I clarify. “Everybody here ready to smite some demon ass!” I shout.

  That doesn't get the response I wanted. It always works for Gunter, my Paladin friend. But then, given that a fair portion of our force is made up of demon ass, maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing to say.

  Znuul laughs at me, lightly, thank goodness. “We know what you mean. Let’s kick that demon’s ass, right?”

  “Yea, Maldgorath.”

  Znuul stands and with much exuberance shouts “Yea! Smite that demon’s ass! Come on everyone… He’s dead and doesn’t know it yet – right?”

  That gets everyone going the way I meant to get them going.

  Damn, do I suck at the whole, “Go team go” routine.

  Karen throws me a wink knowingly.

  “So let’s load up,” I ask.

  The consensus is yes.

  We pile into the garage. Greg and Chris are with my group –Arix and Shey too. Znuul’s hummer has Vets Karen, Sil and Pffif. We all wave bye to Kitten and pull out. I wait a moment for Z then start down the driveway.

  “Crap,” says Greg. I realize quickly what he’s crapping about. The Lumberjack has bolted out his front door, baseball bat in hand to greet us. Before I can get to the bottom of the drive, he’s standing there in front of us.

  “Damn Greg” I say looking over at him. “I think he’s giving us the crazy eye.”

  Greg laughs, getting the joke as Mr. Lumberjack’s left eye is all but swollen shut from Znuul’s well timed knee.

  Regardless of that, he is standing right in front of my vehicle, daring me to run him over, rapping the hood of my car with the bat and holding it out walking tall style. Greg whips around to look at Znuul’s car behind us.

  “Oh no,” says Greg. And I get the meaning. We don’t need Znuul stepping out to kill this man. So, I throw it in park and step out.

  “Hey Mark, we have to be somewhere.” I say to him.

  He takes the bat in both hands and starts heading my way.

  Screw that. I pull out one of my nine millimeters and train it on his head.

  Funny thing, he stops.

  “Listen asshole,” I say as evenly as I can. “We have places to be, I’d really rather not have to shoot you and explain it to the cops.”

  “At least the baseball bat in his hand and the dents in the hood make for a good self defense plea,” comes Greg’s voice; who has now left the car. That comment got Mr. Lumberjack’s attention. Greg stood there for a second and then in that blur thing he does was right in Lumberjack’s face.

  “Best thing you back down big man.”

  Mark the mad Lumberjack’s response is, of course, to knock Greg’s head off – only thing is Greg isn’t there anymore. He is now standing behind Mark with a smirk. Mr. Lumberjack looks around confused not realizing Greg is standing behind him until Greg sinks a punch into his kidney.

  I think I even felt that. Oww.

  Lumberjack swings around with the bat, but of course nobody's home. Greg is now standin
g to his off side. Poor Lumberjack, I don’t think he could ever hit Greg.

  I say, “Hey!” in as authoritative a voice as I can, to remind him there’s a guy with a gun here. Then a fast moving Znuul, brushes me to the side.

  “Heeey…” I say again to Znuul with much less authority.

  “What is your malfunction wrestler?”says Znuul in a deep controlled tone.

  Lumberjack is overwhelmed. He has Greg moving faster that a guy should be capable of, he has me with a gun on him and now he has the man that kicked his ass twice in his face. Fight or flight instinct is sure to kick in and it does.

  “Tunk!”

  The sound of the baseball bat against Znuul’s thigh reverberates of aluminum on stone. Znuul doesn't flinch. To Lumberjack’s credit he didn’t drop the bat. He does mumble out a, “what the…” He may have said more, but Greg’s sword poking into his neck has a way of silencing someone.

  Greg looks over at Znuul “Don’t.” His eyes move over to Lumberjack’s house, indicating that we are being watched. Lumberjack tries to take a step away, but stops quickly when Greg’s sword draws blood from being ever so lightly pushed in.

  “Relax with the bat and listen up,” with that Greg drops his sword down. “You’ve seen those demon things? They’re here. We’re the force that hits back. If even one person dies because you have to be some kind of macho prick, it’s on you. It’s a dark mark on your soul. So, get out of our way, stay out of our way and try to be a little thankful that we keep you, your neighborhood and this whole freaking world safe against that shit.”

  “I... I… didn’t know,” says stammering Mark the mad lumberjack

  “We don’t exist” blurts Znuul. “And if you let on we do, you and your nosey, bitchy wife wont’ exist either. You get my drift bigman?”

  Based on the look that came across his face, I think he does.